The Tomorrow People: The Story of Rollin
by Charl
Summary: The kick off to a new universe of more interesting Tomorrow People than either TV series. Extra powered TP with real life problems are here! Rolin is the first of the Tomorrow Tomorrow People and he's a handful for John and the other Tomorrow People.
1. Chapter 1

Summary --John tries to relax just as the first of a new wave of "different" Tp begin to break out. Mike's son becomes friends with a break out named Rollin, who breaks out more than once. Kulthan and a Klepton appear and kidnap someone to a war torn planet. Once, back on Earth, the surviving Tp encounter trouble with a phony church trying to baptize a new breakout. A superhero turns up to help in a crossover.

Notes: This story brings the TP of the 1970s into the 1990s. There was a history in the 1980s. John is married and has his own children. There are more TP who broke out in the 1980s but the 1990s have the "different" TP break out. For want of a better name I would call this universe 1-A.

The Tomorrow People were created by Roger Price and are the property of Thames TV and Pearson TV (original series and/or) Thames/Tetra and Nickelodeon (new series).

(This story takes place after THE TOMORROW PEOPLE MEET ROXY AND MARETTE and before SHORT BOXERS. Consult the list at the beginning of the zine for more info.)

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CHAPTER ONE----ANOTHER FORM OF LIFE

"Life is visually too hideous for one to make the attempt to preserve it. Let it go. Perhaps some day another form of life will come along. I am still a part of life and I am bound by this to protect myself to whatever extent I can."

Paul Bowles--from short story "Pages from Cold Point"

A huge glass window gave a view of a mountainous hilly drop down. Across from it spread more huge vistas of ruddy-colored stone against a blue sky. Beneath such an eye-talking sight spread John Fairchild, yawning. John lay on a couch in Aerie, under the observation window. John had never been particularly motivated when it came to the real normal world. And these days, he realized as he flung down a Norm newspaper, he grew tired of even Tomorrow People "norms."An opposition of words. For John, break-outs, stun-guns, special powers, different additions to the growing ranks of Tomorrow People, and alas, saving the world, were all common-place everyday norms now. He seemed to know it all--all about the next step of human evolution--even that in the future they would win out and become a majority over the Earth. Whatever problems the Earth -- and his Tomorrow People were having--they would survive. Still he should shake himself to help in the search for the missing Jake and Josh Patterson, who both are lost somewhere in Russia. He wanted to sleep--more from boredom than tiredness.

John was tired. He had filled his days now with helping Heather,his wife, with their twin sons --- Alvin and James. He had helped in ways that he never thought possible. Dirty diapers, spitting and burping. John wondered how he would manage the boys when they grew. He thought he had had more than enough practice : Stephen, Kenny, Tyso, Andrew, Toby, etc., etc., and of course Mike. John shuddered---"I hope they're not as difficult as Mike. Please no." John knew it wouldn't be long in finding out---the twins would soon be boys--then teens. Amanda, their daughter, grew rapidly and would soon be nine years old. John mused--Amanda--he had helped more these days by taking care of her and her needs. But Amanda was an easy child. John, unlike most men, preferred daughters--they seemed more eager to comply. Still he had melted over Alvin and James. John was just about asleep.

He had his family to occupy his time now. His other family--the Tomorrow People --were doing all right. Not that he would completely abandon them--just forget about them once in awhile. Fatherhood was so much more interesting. He was inexperienced in it really, while feeling very experienced in all aspects of Tomorrow People culture and what could happen to them. Which proves even the very first Tomorrow Person (on Earth) who broke out in early 1970, could be dead wrong and caught off guard.

More will break out and others will handle them. In turn those break outs will help future break outs. John dozed, fit in his role as laid back advisor, leaving it all to fresh new ones. Sure.

Xion Xyang and Kim Ngyuen stood atop the Great Wall of China as the sun shone down. It was nearing one o'clock PM here. Tall and lanky, the bigger Xion darted his eyes about. They were the only part of his body which could give away how nervous he was. "We should not be here."

Kim, much smaller, wasn't as nervous, but kept sending out telepathic signals. She turned to Xion, "We can go. I don't think its here."

"Someone may recognize me. And you know this country not too friendly to your people. We go."

"All right, all right," she annoyingly agreed, "Maybe the others have had better luck." Kim did not want to pursue the issue. Xion had survived the Teaniemin Square massacre.

They watched as civilians hustled by, mixed with tourists. Actually no one seemed to notice them at all -- there was too much grandeur up on the wall and the sights from it were amazing. The pair of Oriental Tomorrow People moved toward a huge trellice which would provide cover for them to jaunt. Curious, a boy, Oriental also, watched the two move to the trellice, where no one would go---he feared they may fall off. Then he smiled, it would be fun to see the two crazies fall. If they were stupid enough to go out on the trellice that far...he couldn't feel guilty about wanting to see them fall. Kim, a Vietnamese with long silky hair, knew perfect English, Xion did not. In fact he had not been a Tomorrow Person long enough to learn to decode the languages with his mind. Therefore he spoke broken English, not unlike the fictional Tarzan and the factual Hsue-Tai, the first Oriental Tomorrow Person. "Links have shown us receptive what look like--ahh--abode..."

"Home."

"Home of Oriental design...vague...perhaps Japan. We jaunt to there ?"

"All right. I know you're eager to make amends for all the strife between your people and the Japanese. But really the Japanese military were rather--unkind--to the Chinese for centuries."

"Still I desire to bridge a peace."

"You never know -- Japan may need you some day."

"Maybe Japan Tomorrow Person." The two reached a spot and edged their way out on a ridge. They jaunted and the small Chinese boy peering around the trellice to see them fall off, was disappointed.

The dark boy edged himself into crack which two buildings allowed between them. Fully grown adults couldn't fit and he had had enough of them for the night. The time was nearing eleven o'clock PM and the boy felt worn and used--like some old shoe. The busy bustle of the main street made him gag -- a reaction he had when he was much younger. He inched to an alley square which was between two main streets. Here, people parked their cars and vacated to the streets beyond. One car was up on blocks and stripped of its tires and doors. The boy chuckled to himself. It never takes them long. He leaned against a brick wall. No people --that was good. From one of the many zippers on his oversized black leather jacket, he took out a box of Marlboro cigarettes, priding himself on these being the worst for your health. He lit one and stopped it short of his mouth. Disgusting habit--still he had beaten other habits with a little "persuasion" from his boss Cooley. Merchandise had to be healthy and look good. He spied an empty, discarded syringe on the ground near a tipped over trash can. Probrably belonged to the car thieves, he laughed. He took a puff on his cigarette. Eleven---fifteen and this cigarette sucked. No -- he sucked it. He gagged and tossed it away. He didn't know why but now he hated it. About to step on it to cancel its life--he respected fire---he felt a pain in his stomach. Was the past catching up to him ? Needles were there once. NO, it was his head. He grabbed his head, knees knocking uncharacteristically. His eyes -- wholly black pupils which scare almost everyone--rolled up to reveal white. The tanned face went pale, the already sunken eyes seemed to darken as if he were punched. His tongue popped out, dripping wetness. The boy buckled back into a fire escape ladder. It fell and hit his back. The dark one fell, twisting, spasming as if in a seizure. Sparks alighted his head, his arms, hands, beneath his black short cut tee-shirt, and along his belt.

Xion and Kim were in hyper-space but for a moment. As they darted through it, a loud call came, "Halp ! Haaaaallllllpppp mmmeeeee! Ohhh G-god, nnnoooo!"

Xion spiraled, off kilter, into Kim, both already too long in hyper space which all Tomorrow People pass through when teleporting (jaunting). Kim yelled, "Xion--to that voice! Hurry!"

They both knew it must have been the break out. Xion appeared first and looked, wide eyed at pure terror! He moved forward to help the boy. The boy groped at his own belt and opened it. His hands flew back, clawing and waving! Xion stopped himself from going to the glowing body. He saw veins and arteries on the hands. He saw blood surge through those inner--now--outer vessels. He saw a windpipe on the throat.

"Help! Help! Help!" Xion grabbed his own head, unable to respond to the boy's plea. He heard a cry and saw Kim behind him, hugging a brick wall. She couldn't look at the boy and was in hysterics.

John, on the couch, dozed longer. "No boys to bother me--yet."

A resurging echo from the young boy voice, "Helllllll! Hell! Hell! Help! Help me sooommmebody! I'm coming apart! oowww!" John fell off the couch hit by a ton of telekinetic, telepathic bricks. He could almost feel and see the red stones of thought.

John stood up quickly as he felt the old danger tingle from days gone by. Complacent fool, he chided himself. He called out, "Eric, Max, Damien, anyone, hear that ?"

Damien called back, "John, we do. We were tracking what we thought was a Japanese..."

"No time to talk," John started, "We must pinpoint..."

Xion's voice broke in, "John! Fourty second Street, New York City. Kim and I here. We do not know what to do to help! Get here!"

John telepathed, "Got you."

Heather, John's blonde wife came in, "Oh, John, my head."

John gave her a quick kiss, "Stay with the children. This is bad, real bad." He jaunted. When John appeared, he saw Xion in one postion over a writhing, pain wracked boy, about 5'3, thirteen years of age. He also saw Eric, the brown haired grandson of the President of the United States, helping Kim away from a wall. Damien came from behind, a quiet 17 year old. Sparks played along the boy on the ground, undulating the small body.

Damien moved to John for comfort, "What's happening to him?"

"Break out," John was shocked at this.

Other Tomorrow People jaunted in --pretty, slim, brown haired Trish Warner; black, strong bodied Amy Turner; brown haired intelligent Max Manchester; and the son of Mike Bell--Quince Wrenwood. No one moved. Trish yelled, "John! What do we do?"

"I don't know!" John yelled.

"Look!" Damien pointed to the dark boy's chest. In his fury, the dark boy ripped a huge hole in his tee-shirt under the open jacket. John stared, horribly, at the chest---a bright, pumping heart stared back! Trish and Amy screamed, neither given to such a thing. Lenses and retinas turned back and forth at them. Then they saw black eyes--not normal--but it was clear that these were his regular eyes. "John, he's returning to norm..." In a flash, the boy became inside-out again. Veins, bones, ligaments, and inner muscles. Kim, terrified in Eric's grasp, saw a kidney and spleen in a twist of the hip upward. She screamed. Then he was the dark kid again -- normal skin --but still jerking and sparking tiny electric shocks. "Going back and forth," Damien watched.

As Damien, Xion, and Max moved at the boy, John waved them off, "No, don't touch him. Yet." John felt glee--not from the circumstance--no one could look upon such a thing as a fellow human suffered and feel joy--but John's glee was from the tingle of not knowing exactly what to do. It reminded him of days gone by--when winging it and trying the best you could do would get you past the unknown. As in the past, someone could die from their...no. not their...HIS ignorance. Yet in the heat of the moment John saw intuitively what to do.

Amy yelled, "I can't just stand here to watch this! We've got to do something!"

John called to them all, "Form a circle around him. Everyone, but be careful not to touch him. He'll die if you do and you may too. Uh," John turned to the young thirteen year old Quince, "you--Quincy, what're you doing here, son?"

"I...I wanna pitch my all in and all. I mean... I want to help," Quince, a brown haired English cockney said sheepishly from between Damien and Max.

"Well...," John hesitated but other Tomorrow People such as Stephen Jamieson had been this age and helped tremendously. .."Okay." The Tomorrow People circled the suffering boy, "Come on everyone."

Damien called,"Eric, hurry!"

Kim nodded to Eric, who had blue eyes set in his somewhat Oriental yet Anglo face. Eric let her go, "I have to help."

Kim nodded, "Go. I...I can't."

Eric left her and joined the rapidly forming circle. Kim hesitated but also joined, standing near Xion and Eric. John said, "Damn! There's no pattern. No set time between changes."

Trish was calmer now, "He'll be dead if this keeps up."

"Listen carefully all of you. As soon as you see the boy--the normal boy--you touch him. Not before. We go together--but be sure to touch him only when you see normal skin. And avoid those sparks -- I don't know if they'll harm us so avoid them if you can." John instructed. The head of hair on the thrashing boy became a huge blobby brain! The brain sparked also and throbbed in and out. It had the most electrical activity. Synapsis shot eletric all over the brain and spread to the rest of the body.

Everyone fought back nausea. Eric forced out half a question, "Those sparks...?"

John quickly guessed, "They could be pent up energy. Perhaps he was really suppose to break out years and years ago and the energy's been building up all this time. Damn, its too fast now. On my word we touch. Next time. Wait." A shoe popped off and shot past Davy, a younger Tomorrow Person who had joined the group late. He saw tendons on the ankle. Then they all heard John shout, "NOW !"

Quince did not know why but he knelt quickly, sliding his hands, bravely, straight to the dark teen's chest. Everyone touched at the same time. Sparks passed by them but seemed to disapate and leave as they touched. The boy buckled but their hands rode him. The spasms slowed.

John teled to all, "Stay with him. Don't let go. Its his life and maybe all of ours. Whatever you do keep contact. His mind AND his body are evolving--opening up to us. Focus on my message--all of you. Listen son--if you can hear me--listen. Think of a brick wall slowly being demolished by a ball on a huge wrecking tractor."

A shakey voice,"I've seen buildings knocked down."

The Tomorrow People, sweating, were finally relaxed on the boy as they realized he wouldn't turn inside out under their very hands. John cautioned, "Not a whole building--not all at once. Think of it coming down brick by brick- slowly--piece by piece. Think of a man stuck behind a brick wall who--in his darkness has just found a hammer and chisel and is hammering his way out of the darkness. He is knocking each brick out--brick by brick. Slowly the light fades in then more and more, his eyes adjust to the light because it edges its way in slow...slow...open your mind, your body, not too fast." John held the boy's head, bending with the others.

Trish looked at the bare hand she held. The sleeve which went up to the boy's elbow. revealed a forearm--of scars, needle scars. She focused on John. He was doing a great job. She didn't think he could. John, to her, had always seemed rather--well, wimpy. Her idea of the First Tomorrow Person would be someone more imposing physically. John could be imposing verbally and mentally but...Trish told herself to focus on the boy and his break out.

Eric happened to smell smoke and without letting go of this terrified, shocked boy, he turned his body slightly. He saw a burning cigarette and looked about the alley for the first time. Such a life here in some grimey city was totally out of his experience. He had it easy--certainly easier than this boy. Eric focused on keeping his hands on the hip.

Touching the boy's neck, Damien too, noticed how different the dark one was from himself. He saw a small silver skull of metal dangling on a chain--attached to an ear ring in the boy's left lobe. He also saw the black leather pants, boots, and the open black leather jacket. Damien looked across the puffed cheeks of the kid to the other ear which bore no ear ring but it was pierced. Interesting he thought--without condemnation. Subtle, Damien was not naive and knew what that could mean--two ear rings...focus Damien thought.

"Open it slowly," John eased into the boy's mind, "Brick by brick."

The wall was coming down, brick by brick. Behind it shone intense light--yellow, red, orange. Amy smiled as she saw what it was. A bright intense sun just forming in outer space. A spiraling cloud of interstellar gas collided with dust. Gamma ray photons emit from its center, turning on the star. The interior generates nuclear explosions to support the star which also gains from the growing weight of its outer layers.

Planets began to form. The gray planet flopped out of the mass. It eventually cooled and became blue.

A red planet--stark with boulders and craters and dunes.

A liquid metal inside a huge magnetic field of intense hydrogen gas forming a huge world surrounded by many moons. Moons spurting volcanic explosions high into the air. So high they reach their atoms into the planet Jupiter.

Space snowballs and ice chips cascade out at the TOmorrow People's inner field of mind-view. Out and back again, these form together, circling Saturn at 45,000 miles per hour. Rings come into play, rings which reflect rays of the sun.

Everyone sweated, not from the awesome projections of this youngster's break out but from the one in particular. 480 degrees Celsius, more like 900 degrees Fahrenheit, blistered up from a planet's huge rocky craters. Sulphur-colored mist melting satillites. 100 mile an hour winds swirling sulfuric acid gas in the air. It all vanishes as Venus becomes dense.

Two planets light up in the dark plain of space. They switch places beyond the sun's heat. Icy as several moons. Cold, hard beaten.

John caught some of the speeded up action of space\time and saw Uranus merge. A churning spitting, vomitting spiral became the Milky Way.

An observatory on Mars Hill in Flagstaff, Arizona pointed up--up and up at Pluto, Uranus, Neptune, Titan, Io... This confused John the most--why suddenly sis he see and recognize Flagstaff?

More intestellar images. Rainbow like Ring Nebulas in Lyra where a central star had shed its outer atmosphere producing a multi colored shell of expanding gas. An exploding globular cluster of stars amassing space from the galatic core--shards of twinkling light shooting at their very faces. Quietness. Drifting in space--slowly.

John called in a low tele-tranmit, "Can you hear me?"

"Inside. What am I now?"

"One of us--a new species we'd like to believe. Like ESP and mind reading. You're special with special, new talents. We're.."

"Tomorrow People?"

"Yes," John said, trying to not come off too surprized, "You read my mind."

"Tired. So tired." The boy's eyes closed, his body collapsed downward from the Tomorrow People's tense grip.

"TIM?" John called for a matter transporter band.

As it appeared, Kim asked, "Will he live?"

John snapped the band around the boy's right wrist, "Yes, he's broken out already. Its safe for him to sleep. Let's take him to Aerie--I can monitor him there."

Damien asks, "Wouldn't the satillite be better?'

"I don't want to risk that until he's awake," John said, "And more aware of us and what he is."

The group vanishes with the boy. After they depart, another boy, taller, leaner, and lighter in skin tone came into the alley. He wore a brown suede vest with a short-cut white tee-shirt without sleeves under it. He also wore gray sweats--which ended above his knees. He brushed back his short, gangly brown hair and turned his non-descript, open face all around the area. He had money in his hand, "Where are you? Don't you want it?" Shrugging, the boy left.

At Aerie, hours later, John unhooked a monitor from the boy, "He'll be okay." He told a worried group consisting of his blonde daughter Amanda, Heather, Quince, and Damien. The others had gone, convinced of the boy's safety and John's care. "Not quite a conventional break out but he's recovered nicely. You two can go."

Quince looked at Amanda, relishing the thought that he had helped out when she did not--Quince had been very jealous of her since she grew up knowing his father--Michael Bell-- and he, illegimate, had not. He had some pure motives though. He stepped forward to the bedside of the boy. Quince looked at the boy, then at John, "Mr. Fairchild..I..."

"Please, John."

"Uhh..yeah..well..I'd like to stay if what's okay wid you.."

Before John could respond, Heather smiled, "Yes, we have plenty of rooms. Amanda, you go ready one for this new boy and I'll fix one for Quince."

Quince asked, "Are you sure its all right?"

"Yes," John put a hand on Quince's shoulder, "I'll need help explaining everything to him. And watching him. You call your dad about it though."

"I'm off," Damien yawned, "Holler if you need more help." He jaunted.

Heather telepathed, "All ready, John. The rooms are next to each other just above our rooms."

John shrugged and matter transferred the sleeping new boy to the room. Later when he woke up in the middle of the night he was wide eyed with confusion. John awoke, atuned to the boy's frequency and mental condition. He kissed Heather and jaunted to the foot of the kid's bed. The boy jumped back into the bed. "My name is John...you are at my home in Arizona. We brought you here after last night. You became one of us --one of the TOmorrow People. You're all right now. Can you tell me your name?" The boy just stared. Deep, dark eyes. His face seemed full of color now but somehow used. Shock maybe. "We are the next step of evolution -- a kind of super race if you'd like -- you have new abilities and powers which we'll train and develop. Is there anyone I can contact that will miss you?" The boy sat up. staring. Now he moved his body back down into the bed and plopped his head to the pillow. John forced a smile, "Sleep some more. It'll take some time to get used to this. Don't think about it too much. See you in the morning." John decided to walk out the door rather than jaunt. The boy blinked his eyes and kept his head buried in the soft pillow. He wanted to stay in bed forever--it was so safe and warm.

The next morning, Heather brought in a breakfast for the boy, "Good morning. Did you sleep well? Its one o'clock. Do you usually sleep late?" As she talked, she put the tray she had, down, over his lap. He sat up with his back to the bedboard. "So you are..." The dark kid grabbed bread off the tray and began to wolf it down..."Hungry, aren't you?" Heather put butter on the toast and poured milk into the cereal. The boy, never taking his distrustful eyes off Heather, ate continously. As he did, Heather tried to get information by talking non-stop. She did not get one word from him. When he finished she took the tray and watched the boy ease his body out of the bed. He still wore all his clothes from the night before except for the dark shoes. Heather stood off the bed, "You can join us outback if you'd like." Stares. Heather smiled at him, "There is a TV behind those two doors if you want to watch anything." Easily, she left. The boy buried his face in his hands.

On a closed-in veranda behind the house --actually a built in part of Aerie, Quince was eating lunch with Amanda and John, enjoying the sun from outside as it shone in but glad that the room was air conditioned. Heather returned, "I didn't have any luck either. He didn't seem to have eaten last night though." She pointed to the tray she left on a small table, "Amanda, would you..?"

"Sure, mommy," Amanda laughed and took the tray away.

Heather looked at Quince, who finished his tea and sandwich, "She's quite taken with you, young man."

"What, me?" He nearly spilled his tea, "I didn't notice...sides--she's too bloomin' young."

John was thinking about the boy, drinking his tea, "Just a school girl crush. Quince, you try."

"Try what?"

"To talk to him."

Quince gulped, "Well I.."

"You came to help, didn't you? And I sense you feel you may do some good for him."

"Well, yeah but I wouldn't want to mess up, you see." He shrugged and stood up, "I'll try but I don't think we should squeeze him too much." He took his dish and cup.

Heather stood up, "Quince, leave it, I'll get it."

Quince said, "Thank you." He went into the house and up the white steps to the top hallway. He stopped at movement in the hall. The boy was there, feeling large pictures on the wall. He seemed to like the colors. He turned, saw Quince, and continued to examine the golden frames of the lovely pictures --some acquired from other planets. His eyes and hands went to a small flower vase on a stand against the far end of the hall. He had moved to it and picked it up. Quince slowly, subtlely, followed. The boy noted how the vase suddenly had flowers in it. The multi colored flowers, previously invisible now appeared. Accidentally, the boy dropped the flowers and the vase, it broke into twenty pieces. The boy stepped back and then looked worriedly at Quince. He raised a finger to his mouth, "Shhh."

Quince went to touch the boy's arm, "Don't worry." The boy squirmed, avoiding Quince's touch. "Don't worry," he repeated. He stared a the odd black pupils, "Watch." He gathered the pieces of the vase and used Kinetic energy by rubbing his fingers. The vase glued itself together in Quince's hand. He smiled and looked up from his squat position to the wide-eyed boy. Quince stood up and the vase--off the ground again emitted the multi-colored flowers. The boy jumped back. "No, its not something to be afraid of. These flowers react to changes--movements--wind--they can camouflage themselves until movements upset their composition. Watch."Quince set them back on the stand and the flowers slowly vanished from sight. "See. I'm Quince," he put his right hand out, "Quince Wrenwood." The boy looked at it. Quince took the boy's downed right hand with his left and put it into his own right hand to shake. Then he let it go. The boy looked at his own hand. "See you around," Quince turned and walked toward the stairs to descend.

With Quince's back to him, the boy talked after him, "Rollin." (Pronounced Roll--as in a bread roll with butter, --in). Quince stopped but did not turn around, listening. "I ran away from my mother when I was eight. I don't remember her last name."

Quince felt a throb of pain, emotionally. "I was--shall we say--illegitimate like. You know what that means?"

"You're a bastard."

"Uh--yeah," Quince turned around now, "My real father only recently came into my life."

"Don't know mine."

Quince felt that this was all the boy would reveal for now. "Would you like to see the hanger area. A glider or two, planes, helicopters..."

Rollin shrugged, eyes ashamed, "I guess."

"COme on, matey, I think its this way," Quince lead the way to a larger hall and through a huge open room.

In the hanger, Rollin tried not to show his amazement at the variety of vehicles. He looked into the large, modern secondary glider's transparent dome to the cockpit just under it. "Compass, altimeter, spoiler, oxygen mask."

Quince laughed, "How'd you know that n' all ?"

"My boss had a huge library he let me use. I read a lot."

"Who was that?"

Rollin ignored the question and kept his gaze on the cockpit. Quince remained undaunted --he's overstepped his grounds and knew it. "Sleek. Is this man--John--your father?"

Quince began long explanations about the TOmorrow People, reiterating some of what John told the boy already, but adding on info about Michael Bell.

Rollin took it all in, "Its all hard to believe, you know."

Quince smiled, jaunted, and came out of hyper space behind Rollin, tapping on the shoulder. "I know."

Rollin whirled, defensively, his elbow ready to strike Quince. He held it back. Quince shied back, "I'm sorry. It was a damned, stupid move on my part. I know you didn't mean it."

Rollin stiffened, "If I had connected you probrably wouldn't feel that way. I am sorry too--its reflex--you know working on the streets."

Quince nodded, "I understand."

Rollin smiled, "No, you don't. But you will."

"I like the ear ring, its smashing."

"English? Are you?"

"Yes, can't you tell from me accent," Quince smiled and feigned a Southern accent, "Like wow you all."

Rollin smirked alittle, "Are you--gay?"

"What?"

"Gay, you know --an English fag, a..a "

"I get it. No, why?"

"I met a lot of them in New York City. I was beginnning to think they all were."

Quince laughed, "You'd better not let my father hear you say that although he could use a shaking up."

"Oh?"

"He used to be prejudice against them."

"Oh, I see. Can I see the rest of the house?"

"Yeah, come on."Quince lead the way out. Rollin kept eyeing the glider, unknown to Quince.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO---GO WHERE YOU WANT TO GO, DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO

A few days pass. Rollin still does not speak to anyone except Quince.

Quince begins to train him in use of his special powers including jaunting, telekinesis, and telepathy. Rollin picks up on each rather quickly. Quince was puzzled and when alone with TIM in the antique room where TIM had another major construct to himself, Quince asked, "TIM, he seems like a regular, average Tomorrow Person -- adept at everything, us Tomorrow People can do, but without any extra, newer powers."

"And?"

"Well, why was his break out so.. so unusual?"

TIM answered, "That is something I believe is open for conjecture and I believe John is contacting Timus to ask just that question."

Rollin came into the TIM room, "Who're you talkin' to?"

"Oh, I haven't introduced you to TIM," Quince smiled.

Rollin almost ran out of the room, "No more people."

Quince pulled Rollin's forearm, "TIM's not people."

TIM lit up as he replied, "Thank you, Quincy, I think."

Rollin laughed, "What is it?"

"I am a he," TIM said defensively.

"Are you sure?" Rollin laughed.

"Well...uhmm? Yes. yes, I am."

Rollin said, "Just kidding. Hello TIm. What're you?"

TIM went into a lengthy explanation of his bio-mechanical fluids and structure attempting to outthink Rollin. Rollin nodded and understood it. "Do you understand?"

Rollin nodded, "Yes, I think so. Glad to meet you TIm."

Quince looked up, "He can teach you a lot of things I couldn't."

Rollin rubbed his hands together, "Good, can we start now?"

"I can't see why not. I didn't think you'd like me."

"Well, I do. Oh I put everybody off that way. I was just kidding you, TIM." ROllin looked up fondly.

Quince moved for the door, trying not to show relief that the boy had befriended someone else--relieving him of so much to do with him, "I'm going to see if my father is here yet."

"Okay," Rollin sat a table, never taking his eyes off TIm, "TIM, you're wonderful! Amazing!"

"Please, Rollin, I'll get a swelled --information retrieval unit."

TIM began the first of many studies with ROllin, teaching him about the Trig, outer space, Overmind, and much more. He also taught Rollin about his powers. Over six days when Rollin was not with TIM or Quince or both, he was in John and Heather's huge library, reading.

John was hosting a small complement of Tomorrow People. Quince stopped at the door, unnoticed by any of them. Inside, around a table. facing large doorsized windows were Rick Jasper, Richie Williams, Peter Wilson, and his own father--Mike Bell. Rick sat dousing a Marlboro in an ashtray. The brown haired, blue eyed, medium built, 18 year old male made Quince uneasy. He didn't seem like a Tomorrow Person at all. Although Rick had a hard, stern face, it also had a soft, warm quality which could put people at ease. Rick had huge, hairy eyebrows. Rick made Quince think of Rollin. Rick had been living on the streets of New York and had been struggling to give it up, even after he broke out. Peter Wilson had a similar background, except he was more of a con artist but had given that up a long time ago. Quince wondered how he had survived on the streets. This blue eyed, black haired teen was one year older than Rick and had been a Tomorrow Person two years longer than Rick. Peter had a much more friendly, open face. Obviously both had heard about where Rollin was found--near 42nd Street--and both had taken a vested interest. They wanted to help--or had they had other reasons ? Quince fought that thought back. His own father had been a streetwise kid but did not work as a male prostitute, turning tricks. He wondered exactly what that meant and if Rollin had been one also. Richie Williams was here because he had been abused--raped by a road crew member--Hank, another male. This all but shattered his then current life but he seemed to be managing well now. Seemed to be. Dark blonde hair and blue eyes, in his twenties, Richie was a musical genius. Perhaps he had wanted to use his music to ease Rollin's doubts somehow. Quince didn't mean to easedrop but he didn't want to interupt. Sunshine rode in from the windows which gave a magnificient view of the adjacent mountain range.

John told them, "He hasn't talked to any of us yet besides Quincy."

Wilson nodded, "It sounds ..familiar. We're more interested, John, in finding out if he's had difficulty with his...past."

Rick puffed out smoke and lit up another cigarette. Quince wondered if he really smoked that much or if he was recalling his own past street life of humiliating horror--and it was making him smoke more to deal with the tension. OR was Rick ashamed that he had enjoyed that street life--a life Quince wanted to prove that he knew all about but he really didn't know a lot of what went on on the streets beyond the minor trouble rousing he and his local cronies in the East End of London had gotten into. These problems were worse. Rick murmured, "We all heard where he was found. We wanted to let him know he's not alone...that we've been through it, too."

Richie shuddered visibly, "Worse."

John stood near a wall away from Rick's smoke. Quince noted that even his father strayed as far from Rick as possible. Smoke...mainly cigarette smoke never had a good effect on their psi-powers. "I wish I could fill you in on that. However, after three and a half days I know nothing about him. Makes me leery though, having him all over the house when he can't be trusted really. I mean he may be using us...learning all he can so that he can do ill."

Mike smiled, "You thought that about me once, too."

John nodded, "Bud that was different. Well. maybe not. But still what am I going to do with him? He can stay here but how long? And what are his motives? He knows everything about us -- what'd we know about him?"

"He's 13, his name is Rollin," Quince said by the door.

Mike began to scold, gently, "Quince, hello, son, you shouldn't..."

John glared at Mike to be quiet, sensing an uncanny flow of info coming from Quincy and motioned with his hand for Mike and the others to be quiet. Quince kept going, "He ran away from his mother--or a lady he thought was his mother when he was eight. He can't remember her name though. Almost immediately he began being sheltered by someone he refers to only as "boss". He also says he has been living on the streets but what it means I don't know yet. Whats all I've been able to learn and only recently has he trusted me enough to give me permission to share all this with you."

"You're right Peter," Mike said. He moved to Quince's side and put an arm to Quince's back, "I'm proud of you, son. You've done a great job."

Quince felt he would never get used to this virtual stranger calling him "son" and could hardly think about calling Mike "dad" or "father". In a way he held it against Mike that he had been gone for so many years--and there was little age difference between them. Mike and Quince's mom had conceived him when they were but 14 years old. Quince wondered if he could forgive both his parents for that, too.

John sat at the table, coughing as Rick put out a cigarette. "Ugghmm, maybe I should have a word with him--you know try again."

Quince nodded no. "Not yet, John. Wait, please wait. Whatever Rollin had been through it was something he despised, hated, even hates himself for..."

Wilson cut in, "Did he tell you that?"

"Not in so many words," Quince shrugged, squinting his eyes, "Its something I just--I dunno---I just feel. One thing what's for sure--he doesn't want to talk about it all at once. To reveal even small amounts of it causes him pain---almost a physical pain."

John bit his lip, "Never the less we have to know what went on."

Rick took his feet off the table leg, "Quince is right, Fairchild, to push him now is wrong. Let Quince..."

"And TIM," Quince said, "He's really opened up faster to TIM." Quince was enjoying this rare opportunity for attention but he had to give TIM his proper credit.

Rick smiled at Quince, then caught Mike's watchful eye and looked away. Even a smile at a boy would herald unfound, unstated accusations. Perhaps, Rick thought, I deserve it. "Let them befriend him," Rick managed anyway. "If he's like I was--he's not going to be easy. I mean he'll be opposed to all and any authority over him."

John gulps, "But that makes it all the more reason we should find out what's going on in that mind of his. But--I will wait."

Mike asked, "John, can I stay here?"

"Yes, of course," John said, "I'd like all three of you to, too. I think maybe soon you can tell him about what happened to each of you." RIchie squirmed in his seat. He hadn't counted on having to do that--just in helping in any way he could. How telling him about male to male rape could help--Richie began to understand as he thought about this."Oh, now I get it," he thought. He badly wanted an excuse to jaunt away but had none. And he couldn't lie.

Wilson looked, "One suggestion--don't badger him. Don't crowd him. Quince, you and TIM throw some hints to our experiences. And ask him if he wants to talk to you about anything. Don't be specific."

"Okay," Quince shook his head and shoulders.

"In the meantime go about your business," John said. "If you bump into him--try then, if you think in your judgement that that particular moment is right." Everyone nodded and the meeting began to break up, all in quiet and private thought about all this. Mike remained behind.

Mike went to his son, "You go check on him. I'll talk to John some more and catch you up later." Quince nodded and left. Mike went to John, "What do you think?"

"I've got a bad feeling about this," John said, "As soon as TIM had cleared the recption and installed those heavy duty relays to the Trig, I want to talk to Timus about this Rollin Doe."

Richie was being shown the rooms he could use as a bedroom by Heather and Amanda, who already put Rick and Wilson into two other rooms. Heather and Amanda noted that Richie took a room as far from the other two as possible. Heather was questioned by Amanda as soon as they were alone as to why. Heather never lied to her daughter and told her that Richie was finding it difficult to be around people who had a history on the streets.

Richie was uncomfortable around the other two and did not fully know why.

That night as Heather went to put out the night light so she and John could sleep, her husband stopped her. "I want to talk to you. Is it safe for the kids?"

"Safe? What--being special? As safe as it is for us," Heather avoided the conversation.

"You KNOW what I mean."

Heather eased herself up on her pillow, "I'm afraid not."

"Well, Amanda is here now--with this strange boy about."

"Oh, we can protect her from him. And TIM will alert us if he does anything."

"Unless he does something to TIM."

"John," Heather had a look in her eyes whoch mocked his nervousness, "Really, you're such a worrier."

"Then there's Peter and Rick. ANd Richie. How will they and their problems effect her if they're here so much?"

"John, now I'm surprized at you. Judgementalness does not look good on you. Speaking of which--and I know we're about to have a rip, roaring arguement..."

"Discussion," corrected John.

"You might try your hardest to throw a few nice comments Jeb's way."

John flustered and laid back, "I don't think that's possible."

Heather leaned close to his ear, "Have you ever thought how that grudge bearing attitude may effect your daughter." She put her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes.

John could no longer close his eyes. "Touche."

Heather sat up on her side and leaned on her elbows in order to kiss John on the mouth. "Goodnight."

John responded in kind, "I'll try. I really will."

The sun had barely risen up over the mountains while Peter Wilson and Rick were under a sky-window in a main living room of Aerie the next morning. The two aimed a telescope of John's up to focus heavenward. John, now also dressed, kissed Heather goodbye and jaunted from a good breakfast to the satillite that the Tomorrow People christened FUTURE ONE. Heather, in her robe, enjoying a day off, held both her new babies. They were about to be fed. Quince administered tests to Rollin as they both sat on his bed in his room. Rollin spooned Coco Puffs and ate them, crunching in between verbal responses to Quince. Rollin still wore the same clothes he had when he broke out. Luckily Heather was allowed to wash them during Rollin's third day. Richie was working on a song at the piano in another room. Only Mike slept, his open mouth pointed at the ceiling, snoring sounds issuing from it. Quince looked at Rollin who also watched cartoons on the TV to the right of the posh bed. Quince laughed, "I don't know how valid these IQ tests will be but we're finished. I'll go give them to Heather." He walked out, Rollin's eyes following.

As soon as Quince was gone, Rollin put his dish on the floor and sprang up. Now was the time to scratch the itch. TIM was busy coordinating with his other bodies on a radiowave project. He would not notice Rollin's movements. Rollin snuck out, past Wilson, Rick, and Quince.

Quince asked the older boys, "What're you doin'?"

"Trying to see Jupiter," Rick said, "I've never looked through one of these--and for the time its taking I'm not sure I want to." No one noticed Rollin against the far wall, then he was gone.

Wilson adjusted the lens, "Keep patient."

Quince said, "You know for a street kid, Rollin takes a lot of showers--he's very clean. Five or six a day."

Wilson caught Quince's words and gazed to Rick, who was chewing smokers' gum. Wison telepathed to him, "Not a good sign."

Rick teled back, "He's trying to wash away the filthy life he once had."

Quince, not overhearing this, left, "I better get these to Heather."

Wilson stood from working on the telescope,"Rick, I'm concerned that kid's going to need alot of help--fast."

Rick shrugged, "Until he makes the first move..."

Quince walked into the babies' room while Heather was breast feeding Alvin. He turned away and faced the wall. "Oh, I'm ...I'll come back." Quince, while he would have afforded a peek at the girls on the streets and in his school in the East End of London, could'nt feel the same about someone as nice as Heather Shire Fairchild. He turned Santa Claus red.

Heather smiled delicately, "No, its all right." She stopped and covered herself, "I'm finished."

"Are...are you sure?"

"Quince, give me the tests," Heather smirked.

Slowly the boy turned and awkwardly handed them to her as she put Alvin into the cradle. She took them, "Normally I'd have TIM correct them but since he is so busy..."

"Shouldn't you...get dressed first?"

"Actually I'm anxious to see these," Heather began reading answers, moving to a desk to begin marking. Quince watched.

Rollin entered the hanger area and poked his head up from behind the older glider. Brilliant sunshine flooded in and told Rollin the doors to the outside were open. He saw movement--a large six foot man in gray overalls was working on one of the engine planes. His overalls were covered in black. Rollin realized from TIM's banks that this must be Vinnie Meillio, an Italian freelance mechanic who was hired by John. John had hired him because Vinnie rarely bothered about paperwork and schedules--which could sometimes be irritating---and he was an excellent, honest mechanic who told customers the truth about their vehicles. That Vinnie didn't bother about other items made it even more attractive to hire him: he didn't nose about Tomorrow People business or even move about much within Aerie's other rooms. He loves the hanger because he loves his work and stays there when at Aerie. To him his work was really his hobby. Vinnie, wearing glasses and a thinner beard, was about thirty years old, slightly heavy-set but not overly fat. He had friendly brown eyes and dark wavy hair. He knew nothing about the Tomorrow People and their secrets. John considered telling him sometime in the future but it was not necessary to do so at the present. Rollin wished he could read Vinnie's mind to find out what the situation with John was this morning. Did Vinnie and John talk about this morning's work? What was the use of having mind reading abilities if the only minds you could read were other Tomorrow People? People you could trust--or could he really trust them?

"Yo, Vinnie," Rollin decided to give it a try.

Vinnie didn't hear him, screwing a spark plug into place. Then the voice registered. Vinnie took his head out of the engine, "Who? Oh, kid."

"I'm Rollin. John's...eh...nephew."

"You know my name?"

"Yes, John told me it. He said it would be okay for me to take out the glider if you had time to tow me out."

"I have some time," Vinnie hesitated, "Sure, except...John didn't tell me you..."

"I only just asked him," Rollin shrugged, "But if it is too short notice I understand." He turned, slyly waiting for Vinnie's response, his eyes darting in eagerness.

"No, no, I'll do it. Let me just check with John to see if he needs this baby today," Vinnie went to an intercom on the wall.

Rollin turned back to Vinnie, "Sure, you do that. That'll confirm it." Rollin stared at the inercom intensely. His mind found its electrical out-in put. He intercepted Vinnie's call with his mind.

John's voice answered back. Rollin rubbed his own throat, feigning it as a nervous movement. John's voice said, "Yes, take the boy out. He knows quite a bit about flying. Even been up a few times alone. He's a good kid."

Vinnie pressed the off switch, "Okay thanks John. He doesn't need the plane," he turned to Rollin. "SO let's go."

Rollin hopped to the glider, easily slid the transparent canopy aside and jumped into the plush red seat. Vinnie hooked up a tow line to another plane.

On FUTURE ONE, John sleepily waited for TIM's work to finish. He and Heather hadn't slept much last night. John put a hand to his chin to support it as he sat. "Almost upgraded TIM?"

"Yes, John. Finally finished."

"Good. Please contact the Trig. I want Timus and Timus only."

"Understood."

Quince bored of waiting for Heather to score and calculate the many IQ tests, left the room to watch Wilson and Rick try to find Jupiter.

Vinnie's plane pulled John's glider through the air. The glider. lighter, was higher up than the plane with Rollin aboard. He always wanted to fly. From the books he read, he knew he culd. Vinnie called on a speaker, "Rate of climb?"

"Nearing three thousand," Rollin puffed, his chest full of nervous energy.

"Release tow line," Vinnie called over the radio.

"Tow line?" Rollin's eyes darted over the control board.

"Towline! Release! Release now!"

Rollin caught the large red knob--it was so plainly obvious. Scowling at himself he pulled it. Vinnie soared away, back to Aerie as Rollin ascended.

Quince shrugged upon looking at Jupiter. Wilson had an idea, "Maybe Rollin will be interested in seeing it."

"Hey yeah," Quince said, "I'll go get him." Quince ran off.

"Pretty cool," Rick looked through the lens. "I must admit it."

John had Timus on a viewscreen. Timus looked grim, "From what you have told me, John, this boy is similar to a few break outs on the planet Rogus Five. Certainly the sparks you described were also observed there."

John said, "Well good, then can I jaunt to this planet and speak to the people of Rogus?" John thought, "Maybe they can tell us more."

"I'm afraid that is impossible."

"Well then can we matter-trans them here?"

"No, John. Let me make myself clear--due to uncontrolled, unexplained energy bursts--Rogus Five no longer exists."

John dropped his jaw open.

Rollin used the column stick to elevate to find a ridge along his upcurrent movement. He just wanted to fly back and forth for awhile. Maybe he'd want to leave Aerie for good, use a thermal sniffing method for a longer flight. For now none of it mattered as Rollin felt very happy with himself and the world. At this height and incredible view it was difficult not to enjoy the planet Earth. An alien feeling to the abused boy. He hit upon strong winds generated by the range of mountains near and around Aerie. The plane lifted. Flying was such a pleasant experience.

Quince scanned Rollin's empty room. He saw the bowl on the floor. On TV a bunny character flew a plane in a cartoon. The plane skidded to a halt inches from the ground. The bunny looked out a window of the plane, "You thought we were going to crash, didn't you." Quince took in the cartoon, feeling a rushing, hollow sensation dropping inside of him. Realization hit him. He teled, "John, Mike, Can you come to the hanger? I think Rollin's in trouble." Quince bolted for the hanger. Mike tumbled out of bed in sweatpants, groggy-eyed. He pulled himself up to leave the room. He decided on wearing a shirt. Tired, he grabbed one of Quince's and started to button it. As he did, he walked out, going the wrong way. Mike shuffled past Peter Wilson and Rick. Rick watched the living Zombie of sleep pass. He spit out his gum into an ash tray and took a cigarette from his shirt pocket, "What's his problem?"

Wilson shrugged.

John looked squarely at Timus, "Well old friend, I have to go. An emergency with the new kid." John waved and went to a jaunt pad.

After he jaunted, Timus mused, "Do you know just how old, young friend." He touched his head and telepathed, "Harry Stein, please see me at once. It is urgent to the survival of planet Earth. And bring your parollee along."

When John arrived at the hanger he came in so as not to startle Vinnie. He gave Mike a double take--seeing the small short sleeved shirt that did not fit on him. Mike, Vinnie, and Quince were staring out the door at the glider. Vinnie looked at John, "Sorry John, but you told me yourself he knew how to fly."

"I told..."

"It was your voice on the intercom," Quince told John, hinting to John not to go into it--that it was probrably some trick by Rollin.

John took binoculars from Vinnie's hand and looked at Rollin. Mike squinted, "He's doing a right fly though, isn't he?"

John forced a look to Mike, "He is dangerously close to the mountains. And he is blocking me out."

Quince went to the radio set up on the right wall, "This is the radio here?"

"Yes and its on," Vinnie put his hand to his brow to block out the sun from the open door.

Quince said, "What do I tell im?"

John calmed himself, "Not to turn the rudder so harshly. Let it ease up."

Quince called, "Look Rollin, can you hear me?"

Rollin didn't care where he was going to go--he was free--and he would do anything he wanted now. And for once he knew right from wrong, normal from abnormal. Quince's repeated message reached his ears and his mind. He looked out the window, seeing a mountain looming dangerously close, filling the canopy window. Rollin answered, "Quincy?"

"Ease the rudder into the middle position," Quince stated.

The plane began to level forward and stopped hinging at the mountain. John called to Quince, "Tell him to hit the spoilers--the dive brakes."

Rollin asked, "I have to come down?"

Quince called back, "Good idea." He tried to make his voice non-hostile and even less sarcastic.

"Don't humor me," Rollin told Quince, who was a year older than Rollin but not much taller. The two seemed almost the same age but weren't.

"Would it help if I said please?" Quince looked at his father who smiled knowing this was a tactic he had tried on him--saying please worked.

Rollin used the column stick to elevate to find a ridge along his upcurrent movement. He just wanted to fly back and forth for awhile. Maybe he'd want to leave Aerie for good, use a thermal sniffing method for a longer flight. For now none of it mattered as Rollin felt very happy with himself and the world. At this height and incredible view it was difficult not to enjoy the planet Earth. An alien feeling to the abused boy. He hit upon strong winds generated by the range of mountains near and around Aerie. The plane lifted. Flying was such a pleasant experience.

Quince scanned Rollin's empty room. He saw the bowl on the floor. On TV a bunny character flew a plane in a cartoon. The plane skidded to a halt inches from the ground. The bunny looked out a window of the plane, "You thought we were going to crash, didn't you." Quince took in the cartoon, feeling a rushing, hollow sensation dropping inside of him. Realization hit him. He teled, "John, Mike, Can you come to the hanger? I think Rollin's in trouble." Quince bolted for the hanger. Mike tumbled out of bed in sweatpants, groggy-eyed. He pulled himself up to leave the room. He decided on wearing a shirt. Tired, he grabbed one of Quince's and started to button it. As he did, he walked out, going the wrong way. Mike shuffled past Peter Wilson and Rick. Rick watched the living Zombie of sleep pass. He spit out his gum into an ash tray and took a cigarette from his shirt pocket, "What's his problem?"

Wilson shrugged.

John looked squarely at Timus, "Well old friend, I have to go. An emergency with the new kid." John waved and went to a jaunt pad.

After he jaunted, Timus mused, "Do you know just how old, young friend." He touched his head and telepathed, "Harry Stein, please see me at once. It is urgent to the survival of planet Earth. And bring your parollee along."

When John arrived at the hanger he came in so as not to startle Vinnie. He gave Mike a double take--seeing the small short sleeved shirt that did not fit on him. Mike, Vinnie, and Quince were staring out the door at the glider. Vinnie looked at John, "Sorry John, but you told me yourself he knew how to fly."

"I told..."

"It was your voice on the intercom," Quince told John, hinting to John not to go into it--that it was probrably some trick by Rollin.

John took binoculars from Vinnie's hand and looked at Rollin. Mike squinted, "He's doing a right fly though, isn't he?"

John forced a look to Mike, "He is dangerously close to the mountains. And he is blocking me out."

Quince went to the radio set up on the right wall, "This is the radio here?"

"Yes and its on," Vinnie put his hand to his brow to block out the sun from the open door.

Quince said, "What do I tell im?"

John calmed himself, "Not to turn the rudder so harshly. Let it ease up."

Quince called, "Look Rollin, can you hear me?"

Rollin didn't care where he was going to go--he was free--and he would do anything he wanted now. And for once he knew right from wrong, normal from abnormal. Quince's repeated message reached his ears and his mind. He looked out the window, seeing a mountain looming dangerously close, filling the canopy window. Rollin answered, "Quincy?"

"Ease the rudder into the middle position," Quince stated.

The plane began to level forward and stopped hinging at the mountain. John called to Quince, "Tell him to hit the spoilers--the dive brakes."

Rollin asked, "I have to come down?"

Quince called back, "Good idea." He tried to make his voice non-hostile and even less sarcastic.

"Don't humor me," Rollin told Quince, who was a year older than Rollin but not much taller. The two seemed almost the same age but weren't.

"Would it help if I said please?" Quince looked at his father who smiled knowing this was a tactic he had tried on him--saying please worked.

They all watched as the plane's lift decreased and it began to descend, turning back toward Aerie. As the plane came down toward their landing strip. Mike slapped John's back, "He's going to make it!"

John called to Rollin's mind, "Rollin, open your mind to me."

"NO!"

"Rollin, I want to..."

"Get out of my mind!"

John puffed, "Quince, tell him to apply the wheel brake."

Quince did so. Rollin saw the landing pad which ended short of a few huge trees. He didn't want to hit those--or did he? Suddenly a huge Oriental face filled the cockpit. "Your mother need you, Rollin." A girl, mature, Chinese, perhaps even part Japanese. Her face, semi-solid filled the cockpit. "Find your mother. Your real mother, father know where."

John looked at Rolln through the binoculars, "Why isn't he stopping?" The plane skidded toward the trees.

Rollin looked around the cockpit, "Who are you? Who are you?" Hsue Tai's face vanished. Mike looked, grabbing the binoculars.

"Something's wrong!"

Rollin grabbed his head, "NO! No, I can't!"

Quince teled, "Rollin, apply the brakes! Apply them now!"

"No, no, I can't," was the message Quince received from Rollin.

The wheel came into play. Suddenly Rollin hit the brake slowing the glider. The forward skid mount would further brake for Rollin--and after only a short ground run, the glider stopped. Rollin got out and noticed a few feet away--the end of the landing pad. Vinnie turned to John, "Sorry."

John gave him the binoculars, "It isn't your fault. I don't know what I was thinking." John lead Mike and Quince down to the landing pad. John reached it first, "You are never to go near this plane or the hanger again! Do you understand? Do you?"

Mike pulled John's arm, "Hey John, ease up!"

Rollin ignored John, "Good landing, aaye, Quince."

John grabbed Rollin's shoulders, "You will listen to me!"

"Take your hands off me!" ROllin shoved his body away from John, "You shouldn't touch me!" He looked at John angrily.

"And you don't deserve to talk to us. We feed you. bathe you, house you..."

"I will fly again if I want to! I will go to the hanger again! You can't stop me!"

"We'll see about that! You could've been killed!"

"A lot of things can kill me! And if you try to stop me I'll..." Rollin stopped.

John grabbed Rollin's collar and shoved the mass of leather and boy to the end of the pad, "Look you little runt! Look how close you were to death!"

Rollin fell, squirmed free of John's hold, and ran to Quince, "What do you care," he yelled at John, "You freakoid creeps! Maybe I wanted to die!"

John huffed a deep breath to calm himself, "We don't want that. I don't think you do either."

"I don't have to listen to you!" ROllin pointed to Mike, "Or you!"

Mike pointed to himself in his ridiculous short shirt, "Me?"

"As a Tomorrow Person there is a chain of authority, a very informal one but in times like this..."

"I've done worse things than this," Rollin moved at John, eyes burning hatred, "Things you've never even heard of. Filthy things!"

John said, "I know that. Look I blew it, I know that too. I just blow my stack when lives are at stake."

"I am still not going to listen to you. Any of you." Rollin looked at Quince who wanted to protest but instead Quince smiled at him, trying to show trust and patience.

John breathed in and out, "You're right. You don't have to. I've seen many Tomorrow People die before their time. I guess death of young ones makes me more angry than I should get."

Rollin had tears in his eyes, "I've seen young people die before their time, too. Its made me more than angry."

"Quince, will you take Rollin back for some lunch," John said, "And I think Rick wanted some lunch too."

Quince winked at John, "Got you. C'mon, Rollin." Quince looked at him, pleadingly. Rollin shuffled to him, kicking a stone. The two headed toward the spiraling staircase up the rock it was embedded in--a dark brown, camouflaged staircase which had a rock wall that could cover it over.

John looks at mike, "Will you help me get the glider into the hanger. With tele...and take your son's shirt off--you look ridiculous."

Mike smiled, "Alittle like me, isn't he?"

"Don't be so amused."

"At least he didn't crash it," Mike referred to himself.

John countered, "At least you didn't steal it." Mike laughed but John kept sullen. Both recalled the time Mike crashed John's previous, first glider---but it wasn't really Mike's fault. Hsue Tai had been trying to telepathically contact Mike while he was flying. That was a long time ago--almost twelve years ago. John thought on Rollin, "He hates me."

"I don't think so," Mike argued, "I just think someone in an authority position--someone Rollin trusted and listened to--used him and lied to him--did him dirty like. And now he hates --but hates authority mainly, not you."

"Mike, what is it like having a teenage son?"

Mike could only laugh, nodding in confusion. John was asking him for advice--and he couldn't begin to answer.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

ROLLIN'S REVELATIONS AND REVEALINGS TO RICK AND RICHIE

TIM had prepared lunch for three but Quince stood over Rollin and Rick Jasper who had both already started eating. "I'm going to talk to Heather about something." That was all he said--all he needed to say. Quince, not unapprehensive, slowly and hesitantly, moved into the hall. Then sure it was the correct thing to do, he quickened his pace. Rick glanced cautiously at Rollin who seemed to gobble down every last crumb of his sandwich in between hurrying his milk down his throat.

Rollin looked at Rick through a childlike moustache of milk, "Used to stronger liquid to wash down lunch."

Rick, surprized, swallowed his bite, "Me too."

"You worked the streets Quince tells me."

"Yeah, I did. Sometimes not far from...from where you were found," Rick put sown the rest of his lunch.

"I bet you were good."

How do you respond to something like that? Rick asked, "Rollin, where did it begin for you?"

"You know?"

Rick nodded, "Yes."

"I didn't tell Quince," Rollin squinted, "And I know he wouldn't have read my mind...I know he didn't...even so he's not a stoolie."

"No. Its just instinct. I guess one streeter can tell another just by being near him."

"Kind of like Tomorrow People can tell Tomorrow People."

"Well, maybe but not exactly," Rick shrugged. Rick was older--about 17 and had a serious attitude toward everything--yet he also possessed a childlike charm to his personality. Now however he was very serious. "You needn't tell me anything if you don't want to." He was inwardly dying for a cigarette but felt this could ruin the moment.

Rollin opened his pound cake TiM had prepared, "Dunno." ROllin stared at Rick as he ate--even though he hadn't removed all the wrapper.

"You didn't eat much on the streets?"

"Not from them or on them. But I bet I earned as much as you did."

"I bet you did," RIck smiled. He eyed his cigarettes which were in his shirt pocket.

"Truth is," ROllin spoke through cake, "I ate only after I gave Cooley my money for the day."

"Your boss'name?"

"Yes, Cooley, a black pimp."

Rick stood, "Well, if there's ever anything else you want to talk about that's bothering you..."

"Going somewhere?"

He knows. "Actually if you don't mind..." RIck took out his Marlboros, "I'll stay."

"Can't imagine why you wanna poison yourself?"

"You sound like little Mikey," Rick sat, lighting up another cigarette, thinking about a young 6 year old Tomorrow Person named Mikey who also badgered him about his smoking. "It relaxes me. I don't ...you know...anymore, so I guess I got to do something."

"Truth is I smoke...smoked, too. Same brand as you n' all."

"You gave them up?"

"Yep," ROllin said proudly, "Two seconds before break out."

"Don't you feel the urge to..."

"No. They rot out your lungs and your brain. Not really good for...for the...well you know. Yes, you do," Rollin glanced over Rick fully, for the first time. "If you had left and not told me you wanted to smoke..."

"You wouldn't trust me."

Rollin confessed, "I read your mind."

"I know."

"After I ran away from my mother I was in Grand Central...a kid...eight...no money...sneaking on trains. A lady of the night shall I say...found me wandering...anyone can spot us suckers---a runaway just run...in a minute. Well, she, her name was Lolla, she brought me to Cooley. Turned out she worked for him. Oh, he was real nice, real nice to me then. In a way he always was--when I conformed and performed for him. His way. From eight to, oh about nine and a half or so, Cooley forced me to watch other deals shall we say. Actually I didn't need forcing. I was placed in the room just to watch. Nuthin' wrong with that." Rollin looked away, out a window. He huffed and continued. "As soon as I hit ten, Cooley sent me out to the streets with a boy about three years older than me---Josey," ROllin said the name with a distinct snarl, "Put me under his wing so to say. I had watched Josey and other boys perform. So I did what I thought was...Rick?"

"I'm listening," Rick stared.

"Can you come with me? As a favor? I have to go somewhere. Get a few things."

"You don't mean where you used to live?"

"Yeah, I can't keep wearing these clothes, can I?"

"No but TIM can dish up new ones for you."

"The clothes I had were...are the only things I liked about my former life...if it is former."

"TIM can make clothes just like those."

"With or without you, I'm going. I've already set the coordinates. Don't tell anyone." Rollin didn't sound nasty or defiant, he really wanted to do this---but Rick wondered if unconsciously--Rollin had another deep-rooted reason for wanting to go.

"I want you to tell me more."

"I know you do," Rollin said sheepishly.

"This is blackmail," Rick couldn't hide his admiration for Rollin's methods, "Okay, okay. We go." He doused his cigarette.

"You sure didn't take much convincing."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"I always get hurt. Besides performing is what I do best," Rollin said about his scheme. As the two began to jaunt, Rollin asked, "Rick, were you--good--in bed, I mean?"

As Rick faded he managed, "Rollin, that's personal."

"Nothing is in our business," Rollin said. They were standing in a posh, plush room. Pink rugs, wooden antique furniture, modern white walls---clean and spotless.

Rick eyed the room, "This penthouse is where you lived? '

Rollin teled, "Thanks TIM, spot on. No one's here yet. Rick, watch the door." He ran, nervously to a huge closet past a silver, iron post lamp which was hanging off a thin metal rod. Opening the closet, Rollin began to matter-transport his outrageous wardrobe to Aerie.

At Aerie, John and Mike returned from the hanger and peeked into Rollin's room. Clothes appeared on the bed. John picked up a pair of black satin shorts, "TIM, what the hell's going on now?"

TIM gulped, "Uh--I'm sure you wouldn't approve."

"Yes," John said as a shirt full of metal lined holes appeared. It was all black except for the silver holes. Mike, still in Quince's button down shirt, stooped. He picked up more shorts--red ones.

"This looks like--ahh--liquorice. Shall I taste it and find out for you?"

John slapped Mike's wrist, the liquorice shorts went flying to the bed, "Put those down. TIM, I want Rollin, Rick, AND Quince here right now!"

TIM says, "I'll try but Rollin may refuse--and block me out as he has you."

John puffed, "Some days it doesn't pay to get off the bed." He sat on Rollin's bed. A bunch of blue strings appeared on his face, covering his nose. John took it off, then realized these were strings attached to a central cord which was supposed to be worn around the neck so the entire thing could appear to be a shirt. Mike laughed, "Pretty sick stuff."

"Just remember--your son has been hanging around with him!"

Mike dropped his jaw and wasn't so happy now.

Rick came over to Rollin, "Don't you want to forget this. Won't these clothes just remind you of this past?"

"They're all I have!"

"Not anymore. You have us!"

"Look, you didn't give everything up all at once, did you?"

"No," Rick laughed and looked around, "How you could leave any of this is beyond me."

Rollin became nasty, "Would you stay? I finally found out how abnormal Cooley's life for me was. I hated it. I was eleven when I realized. You see the other thing I had was Cooley's library. Oh, he censored it for sure, but I was smart enough to realize--men and woman had families--lived more normally. Then I tried to leave Cooley with June. She was..." Rollin could almost see her beautiful, innocent face, "was a prostitute with a Madam who hated Cooley. I had an affair with her."

"At eleven--you're an early bloomer."

"I could, even when I was nine." Rollin gasped, dizzy from recalling a past of nightmares. "Look, can we talk about this later?"

"But June?"

"Cooley shot her, then beat the shit out of me. He dragged her and me up steps. He threw her out a window--you see she was still alive after he shot her. Just watch..." Rollin turned as he felt someone come into the room, "The door."

The boy from the alley, lighter skinned than Rollin and still wearing the brown suede vest, walked in, "You're back! This is my room now!" He pulled a gun form a holster under his vest.

"Josey!" ROllin dropped his ripped denim pants he had just taken out of the closet.

Rick immediately appeared behind Josey and twisted his gun arm. The gun fell but Josey, a slimely little 16 year old, squirmed free. He snatched the gun back up from the floor and quickly turned it at Rick, who vanished. Josey turned again and leveled the gun at a stunned Rollin. Josey grit his teeth, "What I always wanted." He flaunted the gun at Rollin and began to pull the trigger, then stopped, "But first..."

"Stop that," came a commanding black man's voice. Tall, lanky, and bulky--Cooley walked into the room. Cooley used to wear and occasionally still does wear outrageous pink clothes, fedoras, rimmed feather adorned hats--all the classic pimp clothes. But now in 1990--he wore a business suit--gray with a lighter vest and a loose tie. He looked like any other business man--a lawyer or an insurance man perhaps. Cooley even sat behind a desk when in his office. As he walked in, Rollin noted the pointy, steel tipped shoes which were black. Those tips were on all Cooley's shoes and were removeable. He'd seen Cooley kill a john who refused to pay by kicking into the man's stomach. "We was wondering where you jaunted off to, Roll, baby."

"Jaunted?" Rollin still eyed Cooley's steel tips.

"Oh, they, is not for you." Cooley took his pink cane from behind his back, "This be for you, my good, good, little big man." Cooley raised the cane, holding its handle in his right hand. He was still, looking at the cane, aware of what it could do wielded by Cooley. "Maybe you tell ole Cooley where? And how you get in here. Who you be turnin' trick for now? Ain't I treat you well?" The pimp's left hand wrapped around the cane shaft. The right hand pulled the handle--which was attached to a long silver metal sabre concealed within the pink shaft. Cooley dropped the shaft and pointed the sabre at Rollin's neck."To mar such a perfect face. I'd lose business but you do me no choice." Cooley smiled revealing dirty teeth with a few gold ones. He advanced on Rollin.

A wire hanger flung onto the sabre. From the closet Rick also tossed a wooden coat hanger into Cooley's chest -- in boomerang style. Cooley fell back into Josey, who was so set on making ROllin suffer he forgot about Rick altogether. Rick raced to Rollin's side. Rollin was shaking with fear, letting out huffs of it in gasps. Rick spouted, "Jaunt, Rollin, jaunt!"

Cooley recovered and saw Josey pointing his gun at Rollin who was across the room. He grabbed the gun, "Give me dat!"

Rick had to repeat himself, "Jaunt guy! Now!" A bullet shot past his shoulder as he ducked.

"They hear shots. No one care," Cooley laughed, "Screams, no one come." He picked up the cane and charged at Rick.

Rollin vanished. A second after, Rick did the same. Cooley stabbed the wall.

Rollin was at Aerie in his room with John and Mike. He shivered in fear, waves of it forcing breaths out of him. His face shook, puffing out moans. Quince ran in, "Mike! I...Rollin!"

John approached, "Are you okay?"

Rick appeared next to Rollin, "No, no he's not."

John nodded and raised a pair of hole filled white trousers. "Rick, what's this all about?"

"John, not now." Rick grasped Rollin's shoulders, "You're safe now. You can stop shivering."

"He...he saw...both of them...saw you jaunt."

Rick shrugs, "So they don't know who I am."

John stammered, "Who saw you jaunt?"

"Later boss guy," Rick said, "Can't you see he needs to calm down."

John nodded, "Yes, I do. Maybe I can finally help him in some way. All of you come on." He lead them out and Rick eased Rollin out with them.

Cooley walked into his office in the penthouse. He sat down and snapped his fingers. Josey, following, went to a double doored cabinet and opened it. He began preparing a drink for his pimp. After he drank, Cooley gulped "You don't harm the kid. I only do that."

"I...I'm sorry," Josey stammered, "I did it outta loyalty to you."

"You did it cause you hate him You always have even since you find out he be better at his work than you."

Josey trained himself not to answer Cooley back. "That other guy..."

"I see him around. He may be in business with Roll. The two think they can move in on our business--they best think again. I'll have them both for me."

"Why not just kill them?"

"Yes, I think I may. Unless they decide to work for me. The reputation they both got be good for business. All my johns request the thirteen year old one. Rarely you by yourself."

Josey fumed.

Later that night John asked Rollin, "Are you all right now?" They were both in metal seats in a large deprivation tank in darkness. They were on the satillite FUTURE ONE.

Rollin said, "Yes, that really worked."

The lights came on and John stood, "It'll take more session time but eventually you'll be able to calm yourself down. You use a word with the calm, warm feeling that comes from the deep breathing exercises and muscle tense--untense method. Eventually that feeling will come by itself as soon as you remember your call words--"be calm."

Rollin stood, "It really did work. John, are we really in space?"

"Yes," John smirked, "On the satillite. I'll show you around."

John takes Rollin to the observation deck and he marvels at the earth which is below. They look out the wall length windows which are set against one side of this observation area. Rollin was wide eyed, "Cool, I always liked space and learning about it." John wondered if that were the reason for all the space images during Rollin's break out. A nagging feeling told him there was another more important message there. "And now--a surprize." John lead, Rollin, uncharacteristically, followed. They stopped at a large tan door which slid open infront of the boy, sliding into the side of the wall. Inside Rollin saw Rick, Richie, Wilson, and Quince. He also saw a blue, shaggy rug on the floor, large black bean bags, a huge white bed, and entire wall devoted to a stereo-TV set up, and another wall---just behind and to the left of the bed----with open closets--filled with some of his old clothes as well as new clothes made by TIM. Fancy square light fixtures illuminated the room and occasionally changed from one soft color to another. "John," Heather called to John's mind, "About that boy."

"Not now dear," John teled back down.

Rollin stepped into the room, overwhelmed by emotion. Quince examined his face, "Do you like it?"

Richie spoke up, "If you don't--we can change it--if you'd like."

Heather nagged John's mind, "But John, he's a genius, I had TIM recheck all the tests. An IQ of 146. I'll retest him but...j"

"Heather, later!"

Rollin choked, "No, its great. I...I.."

RIck waved his arms, "Is there enough space?"

The room was big. John went to the wall opposite the bed--a side wall. "If not this side wall opens up to another whole room."

"No, its perfect," ROllin said, dry in his throat. "No one's ever treated me like this. I ...I'll be right back." Rollin walked out.

Rick started to move after him but Richie put a hand to his chest, "No, let me this time?" Rick looked at Richie and nodded his approval. Richie smiled, "Thanks," and moved out of the room.

Out in space two figures watched Rollin as he came onto the observation deck. They wore AE suits. Rollin stared into space from the warmth of the observation deck but he couldn't see them. A female voice telepathed to the other figure beside her in space, "He's alone."

A harsher, deeper male monotone voice answered, "Now is the time."

Out in space two figures watched Rollin as he came onto the observation deck. They wore AE suits. Rollin stared into space from the warmth of the observation deck but he couldn't see them. A female voice telepathed to the other figure beside her in space, "He's alone."

A harsher, deeper male monotone voice answered, "Now is the time."

Rollin pressed his face to the window, forced to deal with emotions he never felt, made him uneasy. A funny, organ like sound emanated from behind him. A man, wrinkled in his entire face and wearing a brown tunic, fizzeled into being form thin air. Next to him twinkled a shapely blonde woman in a pink spacesuit. Both pointed strange ray-gun like devices at him. "I am Harry Steen of the Trig. You know all about the Trig."

The woman said, "We are not here to harm you. Just take you with us."

Rollin did not trust her and did not like her voice. "TIM?" He called.

"He has been time neutralized for the moment," Steen warned. Rollin flung the table infront of him as the two fired stun-guns. The table blocked their first shots but as Rollin dashed away from the deck toward the exit, they both stunned him. Steen moved to him with a trans-band as he fell. "I'll send him to the planet with this trans-band. Sandor, you have earned your parole extension."

"Shall I return time to normal before the others notice?"

"Yes, hurry, they are familiar with it. Return time now."

Richie walked to the observation deck, halted, then continued, momentarily forgetting why he was going there. He had remembered Rollin and continued. He caught Steen and Sandor putting the band on a fallen Rollin who was on his back. "YOu! What are you two doing?"

They turned and pointed stun-guns at him. Richie thought of a song he had written about peace. It flooded his mind and overflowed. Steen felt happy, warm, and kind. He dropped his stun-gun. "What am I doing?" thought Richie. Sandor looked at Steen who unbuckled Rolln's trans-band. "Better keep it up," Richie smiled at Sandor, who raised her stunner again. A burst of compassionate lyrics and soothing, mellow melody filled their minds. Even Rollin, in his sleep, smiled. Sandor dropped her stun-gun and sat in a chair.

TIM called, "John, to Observation Deck A. And hurry."

John, Quince, Rick, and Wilson jaunted to Richie who was bent over Rollin. John snapped, "What's been going on here?"

"Those two tried to kidnap Rollin," Richie snapped back.

"Harry Steen," John caught the face, "And Joy, I believe. Better known as Sandor. I thought I felt your influence, Steen."

Wilson made a jaunt and returned with a stun gun. "Ours work. What'll we do with them?"

"Put them in a stasis chamber until I can contact the Trig. I'll find out what this is all about. I'm surprized at you, Steen."

Steen held his happy head up, "Don't be too upset, John."

Sandor was helped up by Wilson's arm, "Yes, I only helped Steen to get a pardon."

"A pardon?" Steen smiled, "Well, maybe, yes."

"Who sent you?" Richie asked. "John, I don't understand how I did it but they're both very agreeable now."

Rollin blinked and saw Rick over him. "You told me I'd be safe up here."

Rick looked at him, "Just a stun-sleep gun."

Rollin stood up, leaning against a window, "Is there no place I can go where I'll be safe." He saw Quince and Wilson taking Sandor and Steen away. "Wait!" He runs to them, "Let me handle them!"

"Uh--no," John smiled and came to ROllin's side, "We will. I'll get to the bottom of it."

"They should be beaten," ROllin spouts.

Richie looks at him, "Rollin, you don't really know what you're saying. Let's go to your room. I need to tell you something." John looked at Richie and nodded.

John teles to him, "I felt he should know. I don't know why...I just believe it will help him."

Rick caught Rollin as the boy almost fell. "Easy!" Rick steadied him.

Rollin felt his head, "Too fast. All too fast. Too much."

Rick braced Rollin from one side and Richie took another. They were about to jaunt as Wilson and Quince left with the two from the Trig. Joaquim, blonde long hair, good looking young 17 year old tennis star, came in just as the four were leaving. He was sweating and held a tennis racket, obviously just finished playing. "You guys okay? I heard a commotion telepathically. Then I felt a jump in time."

Richie squirmed. Joaquim made him uneasy ever since that road crew guy--Hank--had forcibly raped him. "Uh--hi, Joaquim. Yes. we're all okay. I'll fill you in later." It was not Joaquim's fault that he felt this way nor was Joaquim going to do anything wrong to him. It just made Richie think about Hank and the terrible incident.

Rick looks at the two of them and then at Rollin, "Joaquim, this is Rollin. Rollin..."

Rollin brushed them off his shoulders, "I can walk on my own now!"

Joaquim held a hand out and Rollin shook it. Rollin laughed, "You play tennis?"

"Yes and I smell like a pig. I got to shower," Joaquim said as he walked toward the door, "You'll like being a Tomorrow Person, Rollin."

Rollin watched as Joaquim walked off, "Isn't he that queer TIM and Quince told me about?"

Rick couldn't help but laugh, "Rollin, stop."

Richie says, "Rick, I'll take him back now. I have to talk to him."

"Okay," Rick took out another cigarette, "He's all yours."

Rollin turned and watched Rick, then he looked out the windows, "Look at that!"

Rick turned, "What?"

"Something in space," Rollin pointed. As Rick turned to see, Rollin summoned up a pair of scissors to his hand and quickly snipped the cigarette in Rick's mouth. Half of it popped off and flew into the window.

Rick mumbled a curse under his breath, "Those cost money."

"You must have some saved up from..."

Richie grabbed Rollin's arm and pulled, "Come on."

As they left, Rick, undaunted, took out another cigarette, "Between these two kids--Rollin and Mikey--I won't have any smokes left."

In Rollin's new room, Rollin sat on the bed, "It feels good. Thanks for saving me."

"How'd you know?"

"I just do. You saved me from those two."

"Thanks," Richie looked down, "About Joaquim..."

"The queen?"

"You can't keep saying stuff like that about him."

"He chooses to be that way. I didn't."

"Didn't you have any..female customers?"

"Some--high paying ones. But they were mostly males. Friggin' pigs."

Richie puffed, "How can I make you understand...Joaquim is not like them. Look, male to male love may not be all as bad as you think." Richie checked what he was saying and could hardly believe it after the damage Hank--the man that raped him--did to his life.

Rollin yelled, "What do you know about it! Its not normal! For years Cooley, the pimp, told me what was normal--that my life was normal --but it was all lies!"

Richie put a hand on ROllin's arm, moving form the chair he was on to the bed, "I know it was not easy for you. I don't know how this will help you but I feel I must tell you. I'll trust my instinct and hope it is right. That telling you will do you some good."

Rollin looked at Richie, directly, "Something painful?"

"I lost my girlfriend, nearly my career. My life seemed broken and changed."

"What happened to you?"

"I didn't choose it either but a road member of my crew--he...he forced me down and raped me. No one could handle that--least of all me. But you see I can still defend Joaquim's choice because I know him." Richie was exhausted from this talk, he stood. "I should go now. I hope that helps you because it was very hard to say."

"You blurted it out just fine," Rollin said with no hint of emotion, neither malice nor thankfulness.

Richie moved to go. "Good...bye."

As Richie was at the sliding door, Rollin, looking up, spoke. "When I was eight--when I was first brought to Cooley--Josey--another, older kid, he forced me--hell, I didn't fight really. I didn't know any better. He did to me what that guy did to you."

Richie sat back down on the bed. The door slid shut.

Rollin went on. "But after so many times--I thought, well, I thought boys to boys was, you know, normal. And I watched so many johns and other male prostitutes..."

Richie says, "I know it hurts. You have to realize--that kid had as many problems as you. You can't focus all the blame on him."

Rollin thought this time before answering in anger. "I don't. It was mainly the pimp. He made me watch himself even as he raped Josey." Rollin swallowed, "It feels good to tell someone."

"Yes, it does," Richie sniffed.

"Things like that aren't right."

"No." Richie moved his shoulders up, "But you want to tell me more?"

Rollin had tears in his eyes and couldn't look at Richie's eyes. "I thought it was normal. From nine to about eleven years old, I made it with johns...let them do to me..."

"You had to or be forced onto the streets or killed by Cooley..."

"No! Let me finish! There were many times when I made it with the other boys who joined us---just for pleasure I did things with them--fun--Cooley allowed it as long as we didn't overtax ourselves. In all ways. There were Lee...Kiki...Lil' Billy...Audrey...THomas..."

"Okay."

"Don't you see--I enjoyed it!"

"You can't be blamed for that--nor can Joaquim."

Rollin wiped his arm across his eyes, "I see." He laid on his back onto the bed.

"Don't answer if you don't want to. Between nine and eleven. You're thirteen. What happened when you found out the truth?"

"I...I read in Cooley's library. He cut out a lot of material and books but I wasn't so stupid. I realized the truth about men and women and ...families. It was then I began to want a normal life--to enjoy the opposite sex. I never did when I had female clients." Rolln stared at the ceiling. "Then I met June on the streets--Josey eyeing us both like a spy hawk. SHe worked for a madame who hated Cooley. We had sex or what I think was sex, it felt as good as any I had after. After we did, I knew I would leave Cooley. I felt I was in love with her even after only two days. I was getting ready one night to leave Cooley, go who knows where with June. Cooley caught us in the abandoned house--beat the crap out of me for wasteing his time and my goods. I thought that would be it. June tried to run. He shot her--right near her heart. She didn't die--right away. Cooley dragged us both up steps--threw her out the third story window onto a garbage heap. She died then. THen he said, "This is what you are for--what you do best!" And for the first time Cooley raped me. I became so horrified and depressed, I became hooked on intravenous drugs, some liquor, but mostly needle junk. I was a junkie or close to it at 11."

Richie nodded, sensing the pool of tears that was on the bed in the boy's eyes. "You don't have to go on."

Rollin cradled his own body and drew his legs to his chest, folding up his kness to his chest. "I want to. You may as well know it all."

Richie thought, "There's more." But he said, "But if Cooley murdered..."

"I saw him murder johns who refused to pay the correct amount or who mistreated me. I went to a missionary on 42nd street, a father there named Reigny--propositioned me and he too raped me when I refused. I fought then but I was too doped up and too little."

Richie clicked his fingers, "Reigny, Reigny. I remember that name."

"I turned him in to a reporter. He got nailed. You see I saw Cooley at the missionary. The good little pimp gave money each month--he said for the kids--but really it was for Reigny to keep turning out kids to him! And in return Reiny got freebies." Rollin stopped shedding tears, "Cooley got me again--he detoxed me. No one knew I turned in the priest. Normally Cooley wouldn't have bothered to detox any whores but I was his star--no client ever complained about me--and they all requested me-- alone or with others. Cooley's methods for detoxin' were cruel, archaic--the withdrawal nearly killed me. I still feel queasey--like the stuff will still kill me."

"As a Tomorrow Person--that's near impossible."

"I'd like to be double sure," Rollin forced a smile, recalling his bravery, "Later at 12, I stayed off the junk on my own. I told Cooley what Reigny did and he seemed to understand. To care."

"So you stayed."

"I had nowhere else to go. I thought."

"Like I said, you are not to blame."

Rollin sat up and looked at Richie, "Will you...hold me...please?"

Richie wasn't sure he could go this far--but Rollin looked like a lost puppy. He hesitated,"I..."

"You don't have to," Rollin sobbed, reluctantly willing to face this humiliation alone, shedding tears again.

"No," Richie bent to him, "You're wrong. I do have to," Richie hugged Rollin and Rollin couldn't help but sob deeply and for a long, long time. Richie seemed to feel brave now and decided to be strong for this troubled young teen. Nevertheless a few tears left his eyes too.


End file.
